


cradle

by fleuravis



Series: with nothing on my tongue but hallelujah [5]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Angst, Breathplay, Choking, Credence Barebone Deserves Better, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Domestic Violence, Drunk Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Painful Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 23:25:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16229477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleuravis/pseuds/fleuravis
Summary: When Percy is drunk he’s mean. He takes and takes and Credence does his best to hold himself together while a man he doesn’t recognize tries to split him apart. He doesn’t ask what Credence likes. He just does it anyway.





	cradle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obscure_obscurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obscure_obscurus/gifts).



> this is inspired by the first half of a prompt from [obscure_obscurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obscure_obscurus/pseuds/obscure_obscurus%22), who wanted to see graves' alcoholism addressed
> 
> i listened to these [two](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eeu2Y3mdSkU) [songs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ykzz5t6yWu4) the whole time i wrote this, but it's named after [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0J_3pFuF29Q)
> 
> this fic is bad-bad-not-good. not safe or sane and somewhat non-consensual... i see it as extreme dubcon but it's pretty bad. do not read if you don't wanna hear about it! i'll post a brief summary of the important plot points with the next work in the series.
> 
> this is set a couple months after the end of cherry wine.
> 
> be safe <3

Percy is drunk again.

Just a few beers out with Sera, he’d said, rolling his eyes at Credence’s concern. A couple shots. He’s fine, of course, he always is. Stumbling into the bedroom. Knocking the lamp off the bedside table. Waking Credence, hazy and confused, and he just wants to _sleep_ but Percy is riled up, electrified, talking so loud it hurts his ears.

“Please, Percy,” he mumbles, batting the man’s hands away. “I’m so tired.”

“C’mon, baby,” Percy coaxes, pulling Credence up by one limp arm. He struggles weakly but gives in, stumbling to his feet. Percy presses him against the bedroom wall, one thigh between his skinny legs, and kisses him wet and filthy, sharing spit, licking into the boy’s mouth. Credence sighs, letting himself be overtaken. It feels good _._ Percy tastes like alcohol and cigarettes but it feels _good._

The man pushes into him more forcefully and he’s hard, Credence can feel it against his leg. He’s only in his underwear but Percy is fully dressed, jeans and a tee shirt and a worn out leather jacket. He feels vulnerable; too exposed. Percy is so big. The anticipation makes his head swim.

“You know what I saw today?” Percy says breathlessly, rocking his hips against Credence’s.

“What?” Credence closes his eyes, feels himself getting hard.

“Someone in our comments wrote a goddamn essay on how good it must feel to _fuck_ you.” He punctuates the last two words with cruel squeezes to Credence’s hip, fingers digging in hard, making the boy twist away from his grip. “Not surprised, babe. They called you the ‘ideal twink’. Kinda funny, huh?”

“Why do you read that stuff?” Credence asks tightly, tilting his head away so Percy can’t kiss him. “I don’t like it. Don’t tell me about it.”

Percy laughs and it’s loud, harsh; it makes Credence cringe. Then he grabs the boy’s jaw, forces it back in line with his own, kisses him hard. “All I could think about,” he breathes hot whiskey-air against the boy’s face, “was coming home and fucking you myself.”

He tosses Credence aside with a flick of his arm and Credence lands on his back on the bed, hating how small he is, how much weaker than the older man. He’s tired, he just wants to sleep, maybe if Percy fucks him on his belly he can close his eyes, float away…

He doesn’t like having sex like this. When Percy is sober he’s careful, commanding and refined, so smooth and certain of himself that it makes Credence want to give him anything. Everything. When Percy is sober he’s _Daddy_ , and he makes Credence come again and again, he fucks him as soft or as hard as Credence wants, he gives him directions, tells him exactly what to do, how to move his body. Credence feels safe. Secure.

When Percy is drunk he’s mean. He takes and takes and Credence does his best to hold himself together while a man he doesn’t recognize tries to split him apart. He doesn’t ask what Credence likes. He just does it anyway.

The breath is knocked out of his chest as Percy straddles his body on the bed, towering over him, grabbing his wrists with two strong hands and pinning them down, squeezing hard enough to bruise.

Credence winces and Percy laughs. “C’mon, baby, you’re fine,” he slurs, “My little princess. My little faggot.”

Credence freezes. Frowns. “Don’t say that. I don’t like it.”

“I can say it, I’m the one that’s _fucking_ you.” Percy’s voice is a mumbly smear of alcohol, unclear and unpleasant. 

Credence doesn’t argue, just lets his eyes close, going very still. Percy doesn’t seem to mind. He ducks his head down and kisses a sloppy trail down Credence’s neck, biting hard in places, sucking in others. Credence knows he’ll be covered in red bruises in the morning. He doesn’t have it in him to fight it.

Percy releases his wrists, sits back on his heels and pulls his shirt over his head. Flips Credence onto his belly. Credence relaxes slightly, pressing his face into the cool pillow, thinking about how sweetly Percy kissed him this morning, about how they made out in the shower until the water ran cold, and then he sank to his knees, taking Percy into his mouth, all the way to the back of his throat. _So talented,_ the man had marvelled, holding his cheek, _So good._

Then his underwear is being yanked down over his ass and there are fingers pushing at his opening, slick with spit but that isn’t _enough._

“Daddy, please,” Credence whimpers, using the name to try and appeal to Percy’s better nature. “I need lube.”

“Dunno where it is,” Percy dismisses him, shoving two fingers in roughly. Credence flinches and cries out, trying to squirm away from the intrusion. Percy grabs him by one skinny shoulder and holds him in place, working his fingers in and out. “You’re fine, puppy. Settle down.”

Credence bites into the pillow to stop from screaming when Percy adds a third finger, twisting and scissoring, not even trying to hit the boy’s prostate. Just stretching him. Opening him. He isn’t even hard anymore. It just hurts.

And then he’s being flipped over onto his back and the head of Percy’s cock is lined up at his entrance. Credence is shaking his head, pleading, _daddypleaseineedlubepleaseithurts_ but Percy ignores him, ignores the soft dick resting limp against the boy’s belly, ignores the tears, salt-streaks down his face. Percy pushes in slowly and Credence wails. Percy covers his mouth with one large hand, the other jerking his soft cock absently. It twitches with feeble interest.

Percy dips two fingers into Credence’s mouth, pushing deep into his throat, watching hungrily as the boy sucks and gags. His hand trails down to the boy’s neck and holds, squeezing gently. Credence sees stars, his vision blacking out, and Percy loosens his grip just in time before pressing down again. He fucks into him hard, long deep strokes, pulling roughly on his cock with one hand and choking him with the other.

“Percy,” Credence gasps, struggling for air, “Can’t—”

Percy flips him back onto his belly, grabs him by the hair. Pushes his face down into the pillow.

“You be quiet,” he growls, “Let Daddy finish.”

Credence moans into the pillow as Percy thrusts into him. His legs shake, his ass feels like it’s being split in two. Everything hurts. Finally, finally, Percy stills, comes deep inside of him, hips stuttering for a moment before he sags.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice thick with intoxication, “Fuck, baby.”

He pulls out. Credence turns over quickly, flinching out of his reach. There’s a smear of red on the sheets. A bit on Percy’s cock too. Credence feels sick. He stumbles out of bed and into the bathroom, grabbing his clothes on the way, locking the door behind him and sinking to the floor. He wraps his arms around himself, face resting on his knees, breathing slowly. Coming back to himself.

He’s stinging, burning everywhere. He takes a few minutes to calm down before standing and getting a washcloth from the cabinet. He warms it with water from the sink and presses it gingerly between his legs, hissing at the sharp pain. It comes back stained with a trace amount of blood. It’s going to hurt more tomorrow.

“Credence?”

Credence stills. Tips his head back, breathes out slowly.

“Lemme in, baby.”

He doesn’t respond. Waits. The tap dripping slow and steady drops of water into the sink.

“C’mon, puppy, lemme come in.”

He carefully and quietly gets dressed, underwear and sweatpants and even a shirt for good measure, though he never sleeps in a shirt. Then he steels himself, straightens and opens the door. Percy tries to grab him, to kiss him immediately but Credence shoves him away. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”

Percy laughs. “Wha’d’you mean.”

“I mean you’re sleeping on the fucking couch.” Credence tries to lace his voice with as much conviction as possible. 

Percy steps back, still grinning, holding his hands up in mock-surrender. “Woah, woah, my feisty little puppy. Why’re you mad at me?”

“Get out, Percy.” It isn’t very difficult to maneuver the man out of the room, he’s barely keeping himself vertical as it is. Then he pushes the door shut. Locks it.

Percy bemoans Credence’s hostility for several minutes through the door before he goes silent. Credence tosses and turns in bed, still aching, trying to force himself into sleep. He lies there for hours, head spinning, too upset and hurt to settle down. Before he knows it the sun is rising and he gives up, getting out of bed. Steps cautiously over Percy’s unconscious form, passed out on the floor outside of the bedroom. Glances at the clock, pulling on his jacket. 6:07 am.

He grabs some bills from the bowl of change on the countertop and heads out the door, sending a text to Newt as he goes. He’ll wait in the cafe around the corner until Newt wakes, giving him time to prepare for what he knows he has to do.

 

——

 

Graves has a headache. 

He’s used to it by now, as familiar as his morning coffee, the pounding and throbbing and stabbing behind his eyes. He groans, rolls over. Why is he on the floor?

Right. Credence.

The memories flood in and he jams the heel of his hand against his forehead. Fuck. What did he do this time? The poor kid, always putting up with his drunk ass. _Not this time, apparently_ , Graves thinks as he struggles to sit up. His body aches too, not surprising after a night spent sleeping on the hardwood floor of his living room.

He manages to stand, only stumbling a little bit as he drags his useless body into the kitchen. Putting coffee on is the first line of priority, the second being begging forgiveness from his boy, his little moon, apologizing for waking him up, for… 

They fucked, Graves knows that. Was it okay? Did he hurt Credence? He can’t quite remember. Figures he’ll just drape a general apology over the whole night, cover all his bases.

Glancing over to the bedroom door he realizes it’s open — strange, he seems to remember it being slammed in his face last night. Why the fuck would he be sleeping on the floor otherwise?

He flips the coffee maker on to start and cautiously makes his way over to the bedroom. The bed is made perfectly. Graves smiles to himself. Credence makes the bed every single morning, a foreign concept to Graves. The boy isn’t here, though, and isn’t in the bathroom either. He must have somehow left the apartment without waking Graves up. Not a difficult feat; he sleeps like the fucking dead when he’s blackout drunk.

His jeans are on the floor where he left them. He digs his phone out of the front pocket, bearing two texts from Sera:  
  


_you were so wasted lol. i have some great videos for future blackmail_

_please tell me you made it home safe or i’m gonna feel really guilty about that last message_  
  


He shakes his head with a laugh. _Home,_ he taps out quickly, _but whatever I did last night apparently pissed Credence off enough to get him out of the house for like the first time ever. Can’t remember the last time he went anywhere without me._  
  


He switches screens to his conversation with Credence, heart fluttering at the sight of last night’s texts:  
  


_Hey are you okay? When are you coming home?_

_Soon baby I love you sooooomuch_

_:) I love you too. I hope you’re having fun. Come home soon_

_Credencefuckign I love you so much Imgunna die. Wanna kiss you bbaby_

 

He hesitates, fingers hovering over the digital keyboard. Types out _Hey baby, where are you?_

Almost instantly he sees the little icon indicating that Credence is typing a response.  
  


_I’m at Newt and Tina’s. Please come here when you’re up and ready._  
  


He feels a little pang in his stomach. Credence doesn’t usually sound so serious. His mind runs through a list of possibilities. Did something happen to Newt or Tina? Why wouldn’t Credence have woken him up? He pours a cup of black coffee, downs it in a few gulps, and then goes into the bathroom to splash water on his face and get dressed.

Ten minutes later he’s out in the warm summer morning. It isn’t a long trip to Newt and Tina’s new apartment and he walks fast, anxiety plummeting him deeper and deeper, travelling down a spiral of catastrophic thoughts by the time he reaches his destination. 

Tina answers the door. “Hey, Percival.”

He glances over her shoulder. Newt is sitting in an armchair, looking beyond stressed out. Credence is on the couch, legs tucked beneath him, nursing a mug of what Graves can only assume is hot chocolate. He’s wearing a big sweatshirt, his black sweatpants, fuzzy socks. His hair is messy and his eyes are ringed with lilac. He looks sleepy and sad.

“What’s going on?” Graves demands. Tina says nothing, lets him in, closing the door behind him.

“Percy…” Newt begins. Sighs, looks down. “Why don’t you come sit?”

“What the fuck is this?” Graves says with a disbelieving laugh, “An intervention?”

“Kind of,” Tina admits. Graves whips back to look at her. “Just sit down, okay?”

“No, I’m not gonna sit down,” he says angrily, “If you won’t tell me what the fuck—”

“Please,” Credence says. His voice is so small. He doesn’t look up.

Graves swallows. Finally he goes, moving to sit beside Credence but Tina quickly takes that seat. Graves looks on in bewilderment but sits instead in the armchair across from them. No one speaks for a few seconds. Newt is the first to break the silence.

“Perce, you know we all love you. And care about you. That’s why we need to do this, to... to bring this up.”

“You need to stop drinking so much,” Tina interjects, “It’s getting out of hand.”

Graves scoffs. “I’m a twenty seven year old musician. You all drink too, if I might remind you.”

“Not as much as you,” Newt says quietly, “We're not saying you shouldn't drink at all, but you get out of control. It’s been getting worse recently. You see that, don’t you? You shouldn’t be drinking every day, you shouldn’t be getting so wasted every time you go out.”

“What are you, my fucking mother?” Graves says with a harsh laugh. He doesn't even recognize his friends right now. His mind is reeling; he feels on the verge of saying something he will likely regret. “It’s none of your business what I do, how much I drink, if I—”

“You hurt Credence,” Tina interrupts, “And that is very much our business.”

Graves turns his gaze to the trembling boy. “You have something you want to say to me, Credence? You couldn’t just talk to me? Had to get fuckin’ mom and dad involved? Why don’t you speak up for yourself, why don’t you—”

“Stop,” Credence says, his voice shaking. He still doesn’t meet Graves’ eyes. “I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t want to be around you when you’re like this. You’re mean.”

Graves shakes his head, disbelieving. “I’m _mean_? What the fuck are you talking about? What did I—”

“You hurt me.” Credence finally looks at him, eyes flashing. “I told you to stop and you didn’t. Do you really want me to go into detail here? With everyone?”

Graves laughs. Mirthless. Angry. “Go into detail about what, me fucking you? What do you want to tell them, that I raped you? That you don’t fucking beg me for it every moment you’re awake?”

Credence’s face flushes with fury. Newt looks away. Tina buries her face in her hands, shaking her head.

“I love you,” Credence says, “But enough is enough.”

“What are you gonna do, leave me?”

“Yes.”

The answer is simple; Credence’s voice is plain. It takes Graves by surprise. He stares at the boy for a moment, stunned. Credence continues: “I don’t think it will come to that, I think you’ll do what you have to. But if you can’t, and if you keep doing this to me, I will leave you.”

For the first time, the boy has knocked him down, stepped over him, levelled up. Graves almost wants to congratulate him: _you’ve got me._ Credence has money now, will continue to make royalties for the foreseeable future. He could get his own apartment. Separate himself. Graves feels himself slipping into desperation, grasping for something to hold against the boy, to keep him _needing_ him. He’s too out of it, he’s lost his focus. His mind is blank.

“It’s not like we’re gonna force you into rehab or anything,” Tina chimes in, as if that’s some kind of mercy he’s being granted. “That isn’t necessary. But we are telling you as your friends, as people who love you and care about you, this needs to stop.”

“May I have a moment alone with Credence?” He feels like a child. Asking for permission. Tina looks skeptical and Graves puts his face in his hands, breathing out slowly. “Jesus fucking Christ, what do you think I’m gonna do, punch him in the face?”

Newt gets up, puts a hand on Tina’s shoulder. Finally she follows, casting a meaningful look back at Credence before walking outside with Newt. They shut the apartment door behind them. 

The room is blanketed with silence. Credence is staring out the window. Graves is staring at him.

“Can I come sit with you?”

After a moment the boy nods. Graves sits down beside him, close enough to touch him but not attempting that yet.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “Really, baby. I am.” He still isn’t quite sure what he did, but if it hurt Credence this much, he regrets it more than anything.

“Sorry means you won’t do it again,” Credence says quietly, “Your sorrys always just mean you don’t want me to be upset anymore.”

Graves cringes, rubbing at his temples. He can’t dispute this. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just holds an arm out. Credence hesitates but finally sinks into him, head in his lap, curled up on the couch. The sleeves of the sweatshirt cover his hands. His hair obscures his face and Graves brushes it back, tucking it behind his ear.

“I’m really sorry,” he repeats in a near-whisper, “You know I’ll do whatever it takes not to lose you.”

Credence’s eyes well up and he blinks, fat tears rolling down his soft cheeks. “I want to believe you.”

“I’ll stop drinking,” Graves insists, “You can pour it all down the drain. I barely go out without you. Please, baby. Trust me.”

Credence nods, wiping at his eyes with one sleeve-covered hand. “Okay.”

They stay there in silence for a few moments, Graves petting Credence’s hair slowly, soothingly. The door clicks and opens and Newt steps inside, tentative. Graves gives him a small smile and Newt looks relieved at the sight of the two of them.

“You’ve got it sorted, then,” he says hopefully as he returns to his seat, Tina following close behind.

“You guys can watch me like fuckin’ hawks," Graves mutters, “I won’t drink again for the rest of my life if that’s what it takes.”

“We’re not expecting that,” Tina insists, “You can have a drink after shows. It’s not that. You just can’t keep getting so out of control.”

Credence shifts in his lap, eyes closed. Graves looks down at him fondly. He needs a haircut again. The scar across his eyebrow shines like silvery thread on his face. “Can we go home?”

Credence nods. “Need to sleep.”

Graves lifts him gently, helps him up. Newt and Tina bid them goodbye as they head out the door. They don’t speak on the walk home but Credence leans into him. His face is pensive. Graves doesn’t ask what he’s thinking about.

He carries Credence to bed from the front door of the apartment, the boy’s soft protests lost against his shoulder. He shushes him, kissing his forehead, placing him down gently on the sheets. Undresses him slowly, carefully. Credence sighs contentedly, stretching, languid and long on the bed. Graves slips into bed beside him, pulling the boy close, one hand resting on his bony chest, feeling his slow heartbeat against his palm. Kisses his shoulder, the nape of his neck. Curly hair tickles his face.

“I love you, Credence.”

“Mm, love you too,” the boy murmurs, shifting impossibly closer, his body conforming to Graves’ shape, filling in any empty space, any gap.

“I want to ask something from you,” he prompts, kissing the boy’s neck, trying to keep him awake. “In return.”

“What?” Credence’s voice is sleepy soft.

“I want you to go back to school.”

“Ha.” He yawns. “Haven’t thought about that place in a while.”

“I’m serious,” Graves urges, curling his arm tighter around the boy, squeezing him. Credence squirms in his grip. “I’ve been thinking about it lately. You only had a year left to get your degree, right? You can go back for a year and we can still record and play shows. I want to see you graduate.”

“Are you crazy?” Credence whines, turning his body around to face Graves. “What are you talking about?”

“Credence, I want you to finish school. I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.”

Credence’s eyes glaze over. He takes a little breath. God, it’s so fuckin’ easy. All Graves has to do is put on his control voice, the low and steady tone. The boy responds so well, so eager to please him. To follow instructions.

“I don’t know if they’d take me back,” he admits. “I kind of just walked out.”

“I’m sure they understand, they know how to open a magazine,” Graves reasons, “It isn’t exactly a secret what you’ve been up to.” He pulls Credence close to his body, the boy’s face against his collarbone, legs intertwined. “We can talk about it later. We both need some sleep.”

Credence hums his agreement, kisses the hollow of Graves’ throat. “Okay.”

As Graves floats into sleep he hears static in his ears, feels tendrils of guilt wrapping tight around his wrung out and hungover body. If he can cut back, if he can stop getting drunk for the sake of his relationship and his band, if he can  _really_ do it, then he's a better man than he knew.

And if not, well, Credence forgives so beautifully.

**Author's Note:**

> credence is slowly learning to stand up for himself... but should he always forgive percy so easily?  
> also, this is leading into the second part of the prompt, which involves cre going back to school <3
> 
>  
> 
> [still taking prompts for oneshots in this series - hmu on tumblr](http://cannibalteacups.tumblr.com)


End file.
